The Ashtons: Walker, Ford & Mercedes
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He was used to switching computers. He had a PC at both home locations, as well as a laptop he carried for airports, hotel rooms and places in between.
Tamra knocked on the open door, and he turned to look at her.
“I noticed some ice cream in your freezer,” she said. “Is it okay if I dig into it?”
“Sure.” He roamed his gaze over her and saw that she’d changed into a pair of sweats, preparing to relax in his apartment. “Will you get me a bowl, too?”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
He watched her leave, then put the original picture in an envelope and left it on his desk with a selfsticking note, reminding himself to return it to his mother.
Tamra came back, balancing two glass bowls. She’d scooped a mound of Neapolitan into each, with spoons readily available. She handed him one of the frozen treats and sat on the edge of the bed. He remained in the swivel chair.
She started eating the vanilla ice cream first, and he wondered if it was her favorite flavor. He continued to analyze every bite she took. Finally she finished the vanilla and started in on the strawberry. He changed his mind, deciding she liked chocolate the best since she was saving it for last.
Walker had mixed all three flavors up in his bowl, stirring the concoction like pudding.
“Your sister is amazing,” she said. “Sweet, bright, beautiful. I really like her.”
“She appeared to like you, too.”
“Alexandre is amazing, as well.”
“Really? You think so?”
“Oh, yes. He’s gorgeous. So—” she stalled when Walker raised his eyebrows at her “—attentive to Charlotte.”
Envy nipped at his heels, but he let it go. He knew Alexandre was one of those guys women noticed. All those fancy French words. Even his mom had swooned a little. “He loves my sister.”
“I can tell.” She toyed with her spoon. “It was weird…what Mary, Charlotte and Alexandre said about us.”
“Yeah, weird.” He shifted his gaze. “They think we’re good for each other.”
When silence pulled like taffy between them, he stirred his dessert again. He hated these magnified moments. He wasn’t good at easing the tension.
But she got past it quick enough.
“Does anyone ever stay in this room?” she asked.
“No. I never invite guests here.”
“Then why do you have an extra bed?”
“I don’t know. To fill up space, I guess.”
She took her first bite of the chocolate ice cream. “What about your bedroom?”
He nearly cursed beneath his breath. Silence had been safer than the conversation she’d hatched. “No one stays there, either.”
“I am,” she said.
“Yes, but you’re—” he paused, afraid he would say something too revealing “—different.”
“Different?” she parroted.
Crafty girl, he thought. Prodding him to spill his guts. “I already told you that you’re the most compatible lover I’ve ever had. I wanted to take advantage of that.”
She sucked on her spoon, and he wondered if she was trying to seduce him. If she was, her ploy was working. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth.
He dropped his gaze and noticed her nipples through her T-shirt. “Are you cold, Tamra?”
She almost smiled. “I’m eating ice cream.”
“Want to christen the bed?”
She gave him an innocent look, then shook her head and laughed. “You’re easy, Walker.”
So she had been playing a game.
He left the desk, came closer, took away her bowl and nudged her down. “You drive me crazy.” He unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand inside. “More than crazy.”
She closed her fingers around him, and they kissed, deep and wet and slow. She tasted like chocolate, and the flavor, the sweetness, aroused him even more.
They dragged off each other’s clothes, tossing articles onto the floor, leaving cotton and denim in their wake.
She lowered her head, then used her mouth between his legs. He tugged his hands through her hair and felt his blood soar. Oh, yeah, he thought. She drove him crazy.
She paused, looked up at him and made his world spin.
Mind-blowing foreplay. Sexual surrender. He wanted it all. And he wanted it with her.
He lifted her up and kissed her, tongue to tongue, flesh to flesh. He needed to get her out of his system, to drink her in, to drain her of every last drop.
Desperate, he guzzled her like the wine he’d been reared on, getting drunk, forcing the intoxication through his veins.
But he wanted to make her drunk, too, so he went down on her, giving her the oral pleasure she’d given him.
She arched, rubbed against him and fisted the quilt.
He kept doing it, teasing her, urging her to completion.
When she stopped shuddering, he rose above her. And with one powerful thrust, he entered her. She gasped, and he went deeper, submerging himself in wetness, in warmth, in everything he craved.
Sunlight spilled into the room, making summer hues dance across the bed. They clasped hands, their fingers locking.
A bond. A connection. A feral need.
Walker wasn’t about to let go.
And neither was she. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him hostage, keeping him unbearably close.
Every cell in his body screamed for a release, but he wanted to make it last. To keep making love to her. Yet he couldn’t.
Heaven help him. He couldn’t.
Her lotion rose like a mist, filling his nostrils. The scent of seduction. Of heat, he thought. Of a life-altering orgasm.
He looked into her eyes, then let himself fall.
Hard and fast.
As hard and fast as a man could endure.
Nine
Walker’s condominium in San Francisco was in the same upscale district as Edward’s. Yet Tamra hadn’t realized it before now. But why would she? She’d only seen Walker’s driver’s license once, on the first day they’d met, and she hadn’t paid attention to his address, to the zip code that would have revealed the location.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as they stood on his deck, overlooking a view of the city.
“Nothing. Your home is beautiful.”
“Come on, Tamra. I can tell something is bothering you. You’re acting strange.”
She took a deep breath, then shifted to look at him. They’d arrived about ten minutes ago and he’d given her the grand tour: spacious rooms, ultramodern furniture, a hot tub. Luxurious, bachelor-style living, she thought. “Edward lives about six blocks from here.”
“Jade’s father? The sperm donor?” Walker frowned, his dark eyes turning even darker. “Are you going to be thinking about him the whole time you’re here with me?”
“Of course not. It’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” He turned away and scowled at the city. “Edward still upsets you. He still matters.”
“Losing my baby still matters. And this was a shock, that’s all. I hadn’t expected you to live near him.” She moved closer, trying to shed her anxiety, to control the situation, to lighten her lover’s mood. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s not as high up. His view sucks.”
Walker managed a smile. “Are you trying to stroke my ego?”
“Did it work?”
“A little, yeah.” His smile turned a bit too sexy. “But stroking something else would work even better.”
She smacked his shoulder, and they both laughed. She suspected they would be tearing off each other’s clothes before the sun went down. A second later she glanced at the gazebo-framed hot tub. “I’ve never done it in one of those.”
“Really?”
“No. Have you?”
“Yes, but I’m not giving you any details. No kiss and tell.”
“That’s fine.” She didn’t want to envision other women at his condo, to create their faces, to hear their names. For now she wanted to pretend that Walker Ashton belonged to her. That he would always be her exclusive lover. Hers and hers alone.
When he gazed into her eyes, her heart jumped, playing leapfrog in her chest.
“Maybe Edward doesn’t even live around here anymore,” Walker said.
“It’s only been three years,” she responded, her voice quavering.
“A lot can happen in that amount of time.” He continued to look in her eyes. “We’ve only known each other for a few weeks.”
Sixteen days, she thought, but who’s counting?
He touched her cheek and her knees went weak. In an ordinary world, they would be little more than strangers. But their world was far from ordinary. They’d become lovers almost instantly. And now she was pretending that he belonged to her, that it was okay to make up stories, to fool her mind.
“Do you miss this city?” he asked. “Do you miss it at all?”
She shook her head, recalling the flavor of the place she’d left behind: cable cars, China Town and the Golden Gate Bridge, the roller-coaster landscape and Victorian houses, the early-morning fog.
Too many memories, she thought. The place where Jade rested in a tiny grave.
“Do you miss the reservation?” she asked him.
“I wasn’t there long enough.” He lowered his hand, skimming the ends of her hair, letting it slip through his fingers.
Already she could feel herself losing him.
Tamra nearly panicked, nearly gasped for the air that refused to fill her lungs. Was she falling in love? Only deeper this time?
Walker wasn’t Edward. He wasn’t the father of her lost child. But she wished he was. She wished they’d made a baby together.
He watched her, much too closely. “You’re upset again.”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“But you are.”
“Just hold me.” She reached for him, and he put his arms around her.
Eyes closed, she nuzzled his neck. He brought her closer, and she inhaled his scent, the aftershave that lingered on his skin.
Had she fallen in love? After only sixteen days? Was she losing her mind? “I can’t think clearly.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” She clung to him yet she knew she should let go. “Maybe it’s your fault.”
“Don’t blame me. You wanted to come to San Francisco.”
“To visit Jade.” Not to lose her heart. Not to let Walker strip the layers of her soul.
He rocked her in his arms. “Then we’ll visit her.”
“Not right now,” she heard herself say. She needed time to compose herself, to change the direction of her thoughts. “Let’s do something else.”
“You could come to the office with me.”
She blinked, stepped back. “You’re going to work?”
“I’d like to check in, let my assistant know that I’ll be in town for a few days. Besides, I want you to see Ashton-Lattimer.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.” And maybe, she thought, just maybe, the corporate environment would bring her back to reality.
And keep her from dwelling on love.
Thirty minutes later, Tamra and Walker arrived in the Financial District. Ashton-Lattimer Corporation was located in an eighteen-story structure on California Street.
Once they were inside, Tamra looked around the lobby and noticed the turn-of-the-century architecture. Walker had told her that the building had been constructed in 1906, after the great fire. He seemed fascinated by the history connected to it.
She tried to keep her emotions in check, but on the elevator ride to the top floor, the walls started closing in. They were the only two people in the confined space. He’d changed into a suit and tie, looking like what he was: a tough, charming CEO. Spencer Ash-ton’s favored nephew. She could almost see the older man’s blood flowing through his veins.
Like poison, she thought.
He smiled at her, and a lump caught in her throat. She knew Walker had a tender side. The side he must have hidden from his uncle.
“You okay?” he asked.
She cleared the raspy sound from her voice. “This is an imposing place.”
“I suppose it is. Maybe more so since Spencer died here. He was shot in his office. He was working late and—”
The elevator doors opened and he stopped speaking, letting his words fade into the walls. She wondered if he would ever stop mourning his uncle. If he would accept Spencer for the bastard he was.
The fourteenth floor, where the Ashton-Lattimer executives made their corporate marks on the world, presented a modern decor.
Walker introduced her to a few of the secondary bigwigs, men who treated him with the utmost respect. She wondered if there were any women at the top of the food chain.
Finally he showed her his office—a spacious state-of-the-art domain in shades of gray, with silverframed watercolors, a shiny black desk and floor-to-ceiling windows. Walker was a man rooted to the city.
This wasn’t déjà vu. This wasn’t Edward all over again. Being with Walker in San Francisco created a whole new stream of emotions.
New fears. New challenges.
Letting Edward go had been her salvation, a part of her growth, of who she was destined to become. But losing Walker—
“Come on,” he said, cutting through her thoughts like a machete. “I’ll introduce you to my assistant.”
He escorted her to a smaller office, but apparently the woman at the lacquered desk wasn’t who he expected to see. “Kerry?” He gave her a curious study. “Where’s Linda?”
Kerry came to her feet, and Tamra did her damnedest not to stare. Tall and curvaceous, the stunning blonde wore a lavender suit and chic yet under-stated jewelry. Her eyes, a color that could only be described as violet, were framed with dark, luxurious lashes.
Talk about beautiful. This girl had it all.
Tamra prayed she wasn’t a former bed mate of Walker’s. An office liaison. A hot-tub bunny. She couldn’t deal with feminine rivalry, not now, not today.
“Linda called in sick,” Kerry said. “She caught that awful flu that’s been going around, so I’m covering for her.”
“Fine. No problem. You’re more than qualified.” Walker sent the Ashton-Lattimer employee a professional smile, then turned to Tamra and made the introduction.
Kerry, whose last name was Roarke, extended her hand with genuine warmth, and Tamra knew, right then and there, that she’d never slept with Walker. There was nothing between him and the breathtaking blonde, not even a passing interest.
“Kerry used to be Spencer’s executive administrative assistant,” he said. “After he died, she transferred to Human Resources, but she helps out wherever she’s needed.”
Now Tamra wondered if Kerry had been involved with Spencer. Given his penchant for infidelity, she could only imagine how badly he’d probably wanted her.
But was Kerry the type to sleep with a married man?
While Walker and the blonde talked business, Tamra sat in a leather chair. Every so often, she stole a glance at the other woman, still wondering about her.
Finally the meeting ended.
After Walker took Tamra’s hand and led her out of the building, he stopped to kiss her, to brush his mouth across hers.
As a moderate breeze swirled around them, she decided that she was ready to visit Jade’s grave, to bring her daughter and the man she loved together. Because after Tamra was gone, Walker would remain in San Francisco, keeping Jade from being alone.
Tamra gave Walker directions to the cemetery, but he stopped at a florist first. She wandered around the flower shop, her thoughts spinning like a pinwheel.
She didn’t want to go home without telling him that she loved him. Yet she wasn’t sure if a confession was in order. What did she hope to accomplish by admitting the truth? Did she think it would change the status of their relationship? That he would abandon his corporate lifestyle and move to Pine Ridge with her?
Fat chance, she thought. Love wasn’t a miracle.
But what was the point of keeping quiet? Of suffering in silence? She studied a bouquet of daisies, feeling like a schoolgirl who couldn’t temper her emotion-laced whims.
He loves me. He loves me not.
Walker was Mary’s son. He would always be part of Tamra’s life. Seeing him from year to year was inevitable. She couldn’t ignore the connection they shared.
“What about pink roses?” he asked, his voice sounding behind her.
She turned, looked into his eyes. Mary had warned her in the beginning about getting hurt, about falling in love. But now Walker’s mother thought he and Tamra were good together.
“Pink roses?” she parroted.
He nodded. “With baby’s breath. And maybe a toy, too. Something fluffy. They have teddy bears. A lamb that’s really cute. The florist said they can add a toy to the arrangement.”
She wanted to put her arms around him, to hold him close. He seemed like Jade’s earthbound angel. Her tall, dark, masculine protector. “That sounds perfect.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “I’ll be right back with the stuffed animals. We’ll have to choose which one we want.”
Tamra glanced at the daisies again.
He loves me. He loves me not.
Walker returned with a pink teddy bear in one hand and a white lamb in the other. He held them up, wiggling each toy, making them come to life. “Which one do you like better?”
“I don’t know.” The teddy bear had big expressive eyes and the lamb offered a tender smile. “Why don’t you decide?”
He made a puzzled face, giving the stuffed animals a serious examination. “Maybe we should get both. The other one might feel bad if we leave it behind.”
Tamra wondered how this could be the same man who’d allowed Spencer Ashton to influence him, to guide him, to mold and shape him into the adult he’d become.
She couldn’t imagine Spencer buying toys for a baby’s grave. Or, heaven forbid, worrying about the emotional welfare of a white lamb or a pink bear.
“Thank you, Walker. This means a lot to me.”
His gaze locked on hers. The cozy flower shop, with its festive colors, refrigerated cases and vinedraped displays, made him look even more masculine. Bigger, broader, stronger in the sun-dappled light.
“Jade is going to be happy to see you. To know you’re here,” he said. Then he paused for a moment, mulling something over in his mind. “When we get back to Napa Valley, we should take my mom to my dad’s resting place.”
Tamra couldn’t quit looking at him. A strand of hair, loosened from the San Francisco breeze, cut across his forehead, slicing over one dark eyebrow. She had the notion to smooth it into place. Just to touch him, she thought. Just to tempt her fingers.
“Charlotte will probably do that,” she finally said.
“You’re right. She probably will.” He cradled the stuffed animals. “I’ll go put in our order. Let the saleslady know what we want.”
While they waited for the floral arrangement, she inhaled the gardenlike fragrance, the softness in the air. Walker stood with his hands in his pockets, his designer suit and silk tie still in place.
Tamra wore the same clothes she’d had on earlier. She hadn’t changed to go to his office, but she hadn’t needed to. Her denim dress and tan cowboy boots reflected her style, who she was and who she would always be.
They arrived at the cemetery, silence fluttering between them. He carried the roses, and she led him through grassy slopes, where ancient trees burst with summer foliage. The headstones scattered across the lawn varied, some fancy, others simple. The one that belonged to Jade was white, with an eagle feather etched upon it.
Tamra knelt, dusting away leaves that had fallen.
“Jade Marie Winter Hawk. Beloved daughter.” Walker read the baby’s marker, then placed the basket on the ground. Nestled among the flowers, the bear and the lamb faced each other, smiling like friends on a preschool playground.
“Marie was my mother’s name.” She envisioned Jade the way she might look today—a three-year-old with mixed-blood features, a sweet, beautiful, half-Lakota child.
“It’s a pretty name. All of it.”
“Thank you.” Memories clung to her mind like cobwebs, but she didn’t want to cry, to let her daughter know she was sad.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Walker asked.
She nodded, then took a deep breath. “Most fetal deaths occur before labor begins, and that’s what happened to me. I suspected something was wrong because she’d stopped moving.”
“I remember you mentioning that before. I can only imagine how scared you must have been.”
“Afraid and alone. Except for Mary. Your mom was there to comfort me.” She dusted another leaf from Jade’s grave, where the wind had stirred it from a nearby tree. “An ultrasound confirmed my suspicion, and that’s when the doctor broke the news to me.”
He reached for her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. Grateful for his touch, she continued her story, wanting to share her past with him. “There was no medical reason for immediate delivery, so they gave me the option of inducing labor or waiting for it to happen on its own.”
“Did you induce?”
“Yes. Most women in that situation do. It’s too traumatic to wait.” She searched his gaze and noticed how closely he watched her, how much he seemed to care. “After I delivered, the hospital did an extensive evaluation, an autopsy and some other tests. They discovered that Jade died from a birth defect. But it wasn’t caused by something that’s likely to recur in another pregnancy. The risk that I’ll deliver another stillborn baby is low.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have more children someday.”
“Yes, someday.” Tamra decided she was going to tell Walker that she loved him. Tonight…tomorrow morning…she wasn’t sure when. But one way or another she was going to summon the courage to say those three little words out loud.
Just so he knew how she felt. Just to hear his response. Just to see the reaction in his eyes.
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